Corrupt Bargain
by All and Sundry
Summary: On a business trip, Ishizu, CEO of wildly successful but cutthroat technology company, hires an escort, Seto, to accompany her to an event. After their weekend together, the two strike up a deal that works well until one of them gets a little too greedy... : Trustshipping. AU. Rated for language and sexual content. Titled by and written for WritingAmateur.


This comes courtesy of the author mentioned in the descrip. She requested so yeah. It's basically my excuse to cram a bunch of trustshipping smut into some clichéd nonsense.

That said, as per usual, enjoy maybe? idk

* * *

Heart like a bird, she stepped onto the elevator, a breath she didn't know she'd been holding issuing when the doors whispered closed.

"Thank god," she murmured, grateful for the absence of other occupants as she shifted her blazer and purse into the crook of her elbow and pressed the button for the right floor.

In the mirrored walls of the elevator, she smoothed at a thick crinkle peeking out where her shirt was tucked into the high waist of her skirt.

The elevator stopped and she walked down the hall, stopping before a certain door. With a bracing sigh, she rapped on it twice. Silence greeted her and instead she heard her pulse, loud and erratic. As if to drown out the fresh memory of too-pleasant chirps at her ear only that afternoon.

" _So you're aware, payment will process once our associate alerts us to the conclusion of your visit. Any time you're ready, I'd be happy to specify the address."_

This part of her city.

This very door.

Staring at the burnished gold plaque engraved with numbers, she fought the urge to bolt back up the hall and forget all of this.

But the door opened then.

What struck her first were clothes. He looked as if he'd have been right at home at the meeting she'd only just left. All crisp pleats and edges. The only thing missing was a suit jacket.

"Good evening." His voice was dusky, naturally so, a dark and heavy grate. She swore she felt its weight settling on her chest down from his significant height above her. And what a face…

He stepped aside, holding the door open for her to enter, willing her legs to work again after momentarily forgetting how to walk. The place was a generous size and, in a word, spotless.

Dark wood underfoot and light everything else, all the customary pieces though a rather inviting-looking couch, a cluster of flickering candles on a table before it, floor to ceiling windows behind, rain streaking down in languid rivulets, a dozen heartbeats between each trail.

A tug at her blazer made her jump.

"You can leave all that here."

He gestured to a bench in the foyer near a tall mirror.

Swallowing thickly, she set down her things.

"You don't need it right now."

She was suddenly vividly reminded of why she was there and she began to see less and less of the neat apartment she stood in.

Almost immediately, he was there, hands touching to her upper arms, the warmth of his grasp bleeding through the thin fabric of her shirt and sending her pulse spiralling wildly higher.

"There's no need to be so tense," he said, voice deeper when quieter, urging on calm.

 _Impossible._

There were a thousand thoughts. A thousand reasons in her mind to convey why this was a bad idea. Every experience had been bad. And here was a stranger, whose name she didn't even know, with his hands on her. Like she'd wanted. Thought she'd wanted.

Seeing the gesture without the desired effect, he let go, a hand gently pressing at her lower back to guide her further in. If she wanted to be here or not, he's soon determine, leaving her to take a seat on the couch and bid her over with the crook of a finger. She complied after all but left a good foot of space between as she sat, hands folding in her lap and all of her about as rigid as a board.

She eyed him silently and he did the same, only noticed more clues to how tightly wound she was, even the minute rises and falls of her chest telling of perfectly even breaths, however short.

For all that, all the neat ties and trim, she just screamed for touch. For hands to unravel in careful method. The very idea was sorely tempting and it was all he could do to keep from licking his lips.

There was no point in trying to predict how the night might go when he could gauge it right then…

He edged just a little closer and pretended not to notice the way her eyes darted down to the couch to calculate the exact measure of inches still between them. He made a point to settle back, laying an arm across the top of the sofa behind her. She glanced at the arm now in her space and looked to him expectantly. If she'd just relax a little…

"Long day?"

"Yes," her reply was as clipped as it was quiet.

"I was told you're an executive. Is that so?"

"The CEO."

He allowed a proper raise of brows and an impressed tone easily enough that he almost believed the act himself.

"Interesting… You just came from a meeting."

"I did."

"You didn't give yourself much time to unwind."

She glanced aside before answering,

"It ran long."

"Then there's our first order of business."

The look she fixed him with then was more than a little bewildered.

But rather than explain, he decided to let her observe he was in no rush.

"What's your full name? Any additional titles?"

"Ishtar, Ishizu."

"Ishizu or Miss Ishtar?"

She blinked, surprised at how nice that had all sounded sliding off his tongue.

"Sorry?"

"Someone of your standing generally has a preferred form of address…"

"Oh, uh, yes of course. Either is all right."

He looked at her then, twitch of his lips telling.

"What?" she asked, looking at herself.

But he wasn't looking anywhere but her face.

"You've never done this before, have you?"

Slept with anyone, that was.

She bristled, pride a sudden swell within her.

"Yes I have done _this_ before, Mister…"

"Kaiba."

"Mister Kaiba," she amended hastily, standing up. Arms quivering with nerves and rage both, she shoved them into a quick fold. "The details of my intimate affairs are none of your concern. I didn't come here for an interrogation."

Rising as well, he let amusement melt away and carefully studied her face.

"Would you like some tea?"

She mouthed wordlessly and came up without a reply. Here he was, the stranger she'd arranged to sleep with, asking if she wanted tea.

Of all things.

"Yes, actually."

Quiet noise drifted in from the kitchen, in time, she unfolded her arms and looked around the apartment.

A couple tall shelves with books filling every sliver of available space and spilling over to lie sideways on the ledges.

Her nails tapped quietly on the glass top of a broad case looking every bit like it belonged in a museum somewhere right along with the delicately arranged fragments beneath the glass. Some broken vessel of inconsequential design, bright and gleaming indistinguishable bits strewn amidst rough pieces of as if to demonstrate the vessel's former purpose.

Heels clicked against dark wood underfoot as she moved to look at a painting. It was nearly all red in subject. Some kind of inner light there just along the edges. Silhouettes of figures entwined as if preparing to meet for a kiss, in barely perceptible lines.

"A gift from a friend."

She found him there beside her and turned to accept an offered teacup, the twin in his hand. Murmuring a thank you, she let it warm her hands and listened as he added.

"I think he called it 'Almost'."

With this knowledge, she looked again and suddenly it was clear. Two people disappearing into their own lives. Light and red and something meaningful between them but fading.

"Almost lovers."

"That's the idea," he said, then sighed. "Or it could be just a bunch of smudges. Part of a degree only makes critique partly credible."

"You attended university?"

"Yes." He offered nothing more, leaving her side to perch back on the couch.

She stood, admiring the painting until she'd run out of tea.

"Would you like more?"

He'd been watching, she realised, willing her shoulders not to creep up where they'd finally fallen. She nearly said yes, if only for the possibility of inhaling the strangely calming fragrance once more.

"No, thank you."

Feeling somewhat more relaxed, she wandered back to the couch, setting her empty teacup down next to his on the coffee table as she sat down.

"Miss Ishtar."

Her eyes slowly peeled from a bookcase, supposing she knew some of the titles therewithin.

And then she nearly wished she hadn't looked, eyes invariably falling to the hand he had pulling his tie loose… then a button or two… the hollow of his neck an indescribably eye-catching point.

"Yes..?"

Her gaze flicked up to his eyes while her features twitched with an unseen frown. Such thick eyelashes… a perfect waste on a man… It was something similar with his lips, really… She watched as a corner pulled slowly up.

"Would you like me to kiss you?"

She couldn't manage a word in reply, some wild, stupid hope that he'd hear her yes made silent with her own embarrassment. Her heart still raced. Nails still bit into her palm. Just the idea…

Her lips parted to let out a silent breath, a silent request, tongue sliding out across one bit of flesh then disappearing necessary for a another nerve-induced swallow when he leaned slowly, eyed her lips, and she realised.

He'd _heard_.

And answered.

Lips just brushing hers and him drawing away. The smallest _softest_ quietest little crackle of something. There then gone. A little light slipping out between her fingers. A firefly wavering on back into the night.

And she'd been after it as if in a trance.

Eyes she didn't know she'd closed flicked back open and coming to rest anywhere but him as she straightened from her telling lean.

"Go take a shower and unwind. I think that'll be enough time," he told her.

Time..?

"For what?" she asked.

"For you to decide what you'd like me to do for you tonight."

Ishizu stood carefully, stiff steps trailing on away through the apartment to the inevitable destination and pulled the door shut. She caught sight of herself in the mirror, wide-eyed and hair starting to slip out from its clip and pins.

She left it up and away from the water.

* * *

Some moments later, she ventured out of the bedroom, hand busy buttoning her shirt closed around what he was sure was lace, judging by the bit he'd spied.

"Oh!" she cried at spotting him, hand clasping her shirt closed the rest of the way. Almost immediately after, she dropped it and her gaze. He'd seen already and it was stupid to be so surprised to find the man there on his own couch.

"Well..?" he asked.

In the time it took for her to formulate an answer, slow steps put him there before her.

"I can't stay."

And that said, she made her way over to the tall mirror propped up against the wall, her bag and coat within arms reach. Here, she turned her head this way and that way, pulling pin after pin out of her hair and replacing each with care, the familiar little ritual taking her far away for a moment.

Somewhere in the dark. Years ago. Pain lancing through her hip as she settled weight on her side and imagined it was just the angle that began to press at her lungs that night. And not silent disappointment onsetting. Not the strange weight of the arm sliding over her side, not so familiar anymore.

A pin slipped from her fingers and the realization snapped her back to the present.

She noticed he was there, peering at her reflection from over her shoulder.

When his hands bumped hers, she jumped needlessly. He only did just the same as she had, in part, pulling pins from her hair. And yet nerves were everywhere. Electric. Cresting in their wavelengths with every new and silent word she didn't say, every word he asked about now,

"Can't or won't?"

At once, she was aware of the absence of his hands, the quietest clatter of pins set aside, warm fingers curling around hers, working to get them loose of all the rest.

"I'm not sure."

 _It must have been a mistake to come here._

Quick to tail her words were his, as smooth as hers had been brittle.

"Then let's figure it out."

He set the last handful of pins elsewhere and reached up, sweeping her hair aside. Her hands became fists at her sides. It was all she could do not to shiver as the pads of his fingers pressed, rested just there against her neck, and began to slip slowly lower.

" _Tu es jolie."_

Unfamiliarity trickled down her spine, little sparks of something indescribable alight at every ligament, every place his fingers touched _burned_ through her clothes.

By some inescapable magnetism, her gaze sought his suddenly and found it in the mirror's reflection, on her face, on all her features now set back into their natural frame. Dark hair in unruly waves across her collarbone. Eyes and cheeks prickling with the unseen kind of warmth that followed scrubbing everything bare.

Something about the way he looked at her now.

What he might've said, though she hadn't understood the words entirely.

She shut her eyes and her heart beat harder in her chest than she could ever remember. Even more with her sudden shiver. She couldn't help it. The way his voice had come melting into her skin, warm and resonating and hard somehow,

"I want you to watch."

Her gaze snapped open, a vision of them bursting upon her sight and her heart in a sudden thrum, as if he'd reached into her somewhere, somehow, fingertips in practised brushes across all the right strings at once. Pleasure and will all entangling melodic reverberating throughout her very frame.

His hands found her hips and hers worked at her own shirt buttons, a jagged line down slow, _slower,_ fumbling as his lips met her neck in kisses new and stoking tender sparks in little flames, a new one for each new touch. Her mouth open and lungs sucking in air. Needing. Fire growing within, slow and tight curls low in her stomach. Tangles. Hands. Everywhere. Her hips. Her thighs. Fingers dragging tightly. Over. Her clothes. Strokes turning grasps.

She watched it all until she couldn't bear the sight any longer. It was so… _much_ … more than she could remember, her memories of others turning to ash.

His hands pressed up her body and grasped her breasts. She was aware of the sound of herself now. Then vividly _them_. Him almost stumbling after every one of hers in breath and pieced murmur breaking into a chorus of pleasure now. Ishizu pressed back against him, felt him there against her backside. Suddenly. _Grinding._ Fingers like claws sinking into her thighs.

"I want to see you."

Breath disappeared from her lungs and he never let her catch it. In one rough motion, he tore her shirt the rest of the way open.

"Take off your skirt."

She couldn't get out of it fast enough. Or turned around fast enough. He reached for her face, fingertips soft points shooting sparks under her skin where he tilted her head up. Waited. Only a moment to savour the way her breaths quivered with more than a little anticipation.

Lips finally met.

And she could see a little light blink in.

One.

Another.

For each small and lingering kiss.

Until there were more. The tip of a tongue pressing, passing her lips. Until they were more. Incongruous parts beginning to melting into one. She wasn't sure when. He'd tugged her shirt off entirely. Pulled her up into his arms.

The bed springs creaked almost silently. She pulled back closer to the headboard and he followed suit. They sat atop the blankets, entangling all over again. He hummed against her mouth, drawing just barely away so she still felt every brush of his lips at hers for each syllable,

"You can touch me if you'd like."

With shaking hands, she reached. Blindly. Grazing a belt buckle then inching higher. She could feel them all there, hard shapes just under his shirt. She couldn't help her soft hum bleeding into their kiss. Or how long she touched him. She didn't realise until one of his hands brushed hers where he'd been slowly unbuttoning his shirt. He stopped then and let her pick up where he'd left off. More quickly where she wasn't distracted with a kiss now. All she had to think about were his hands stroking just barely damp skin with the kind of fondness that came in touching something new. Everywhere all over again.

She worked open the rest of his shirt down to where it was still tucked into his pants, fingers dragging over his stomach as his ran up her back, grazing her bra. He seemed to remember it then, rubbing lightly in search of something he didn't find.

"It's black, I couldn't tell…" He laughed and her chest turned to the strangest flutters as his hands slid along the fabric where it took better shape, curving down to a clasp in the centre. "These are my favourite."

He meant to take it off but…

"Is that necessary?"

Of course it was, she thought, but maybe not yet. Maybe he could exercise a little creative license.

He leaned. Lips at her neck and on down once again. Farther. Kisses like white-hot brands against her chest.

"You don't think so?" he murmured, thumbs running the lace edges of her bra.

Just there between her breasts, he thumbed the clasp absently and she swore she could feel his fingertips on her very core.

"I don't."

He straightened, eyeing her as he smoothed hands down her sides, her hips, and edged under her panties.

"And these?"

She bit her tongue as if to keep the truth from slipping off the tip. They both knew. Her little lies. His pretending not to see them. At some point she'd have to confess. It was the only way she'd tell. Strangely, the thought of him willing it out of her was enough to make her shiver, feeling every inch of her body thrum with fresh heat. Desire. Growing positively drunk on a mix of her own arousal and all of him.

And she was greedy for more.

"Leave them."

"Well…" he trailed, slipping out of bed. "That won't be a problem."

She would've bet anything he was doing his best to keep a straight face now. Even more that she deliberately left her gaze where it had fallen, idly moving pillows as if it was necessary to fix their position before she laid down. It wasn't that she took issue with watching him undress or even that he might take issue, but more that she already felt her stomach flutter in all too familiar a way. Already… And yet as she heard the bedsprings protest returning weight, she couldn't stop her eyes from raking down his body or her hands from reaching.

"I…" She licked her lips and thoughts pitched ahead. Predicted. What sounds he could make. The way the muscles of his arms might flicker under her hands. What he would feel like buried into her.

A smile stole over her lips, little and guilty.

Of course, then he'd had to go and return it, the smile that was, as one of his hands pressed into the sheets somewhere near her shoulder. Ishizu wasn't entirely sure she hadn't melted then and there.

"Something wrong?"

She bit her lip and let go of him, mind clamouring to form a coherent reply as he reached back to hook a hand under one of her knees and pull her thigh up against his bare hip. He was so close, the realization roared within her, a movement away from driving every other thought out of her mind entirely.

"Not at all."

If he'd only move a little closer… She eased her calf across his backside and pulled just a little. Next thing she knew, the sheets rustled as her leg fell from around him. There was a forearm pressed across her stomach now. Both heavy and not in a way she didn't have enough words to describe.

"Now." He paused deliberately, voice as warm as his eyes on her then. "Tell me what what you'd like me to do right now."

Anything.

 _Everything._

Ishizu exhaled a shivering breath.

"That should be obvious at this point."

"You can do better than that."

She glanced aside, unable to come up with words at all at that point.

But he persisted, sounding annoyingly at ease,

"I can wait."

Her gaze snapped up to his. It was teasing. But only a little. More something else. A… challenge. She realised even before he confirmed,

"Are you always this unreasonable?"

"Only about as much as you are slow."

Watching surprise flick over his face generated as much thrill within her as watching it fade into something else entirely.

"Is that so?"

"Yes," she breathed quietly. "I happen to be perfectly reasonable."

"But a little dishonest."

She swallowed and any quip she thought of died fast, irritation bristling within her just a little too much like lust. Thick and spreading.

"I didn't take you for a liar, Miss Ishtar."

He shifted off the arm weighing on her hips and reached down, knuckles grazing the hem of her panties.

"Just business," she spoke quickly, trying to outtalk the desire to throw her arms up around his neck then and there.

His fingers slipped through dark curls and slowly lower. Then she was aware of two things at once, her panties sliding across her hip as he pulled them aside and exactly how wet the bit of fabric was elsewhere against her skin now.

"Of course."

She would swear just the two words held more sexuality than all the books she'd ever read. Combined. She couldn't answer.

"I think you can speak up now."

And while he'd prompted, he made it very hard to at that moment. Ishizu gasped, eyes squeezing shut as fingertips glided over her, slick and slowly stroking. Time all but ended then. There was nothing. Only sensations. Pleasure. Spreading. Shivers all over. The feel of sheets clutched in her fingers. Constant. Pulses. Mismatched and perfect over erratic flutters in her stomach. Suddenly his lips were at her ear again. Words spilling into her senses.

"What about now?"

She couldn't remember. Still, he gave her the time to.

But her libido was as treacherous as ever and she finally whispered,

"I don't think so."

Heat pushed through in a wave. Her back curved, hips rolling up at the fingers prodding in past slick petals. Almost. Just―

"Now?"

"Not yet," she gasped. Then cried. Hands fumbling in a reach for his shoulders as he eased fingers into her, working in and out in some slow, small prelude to what she could have if. If she just— And like some kind of smoke, she felt it all rush out of her lungs when he shifted up again, hands at either side of her head. Then once again with a sound that didn't even have a name.

"Please…"

And more. Crowding up in her throat on the way out. In time. Out of time. With all the motions against her. Teasing and too many. He was right there.

Just.

Waiting.

"Please what…?"

She found his eyes on her and shut her own again, swearing she could feel his gaze weigh on her. Washing over every inch of her skin like something cool and pleasant and electric all at once. Everything else fizzling out into shadows cast off by lights all blinking in too quickly.

One by one.

And suddenly a big scatter of them like fireworks.

His lips on hers.

"Enough…"

 _Playing._

He bit the rest of the words off her lips. Softly.

She trembled. Turned nails into claws even if she wasn't sure where she wanted them. Needed them. Somewhere attached to him now. His hair first. Then his arms. Suddenly. Biting into his skin. One rock of his hips and — And — Pleasure spiralled. Curled down through her spine and hooked up. She pressed up against him.

And then he moved.

Somewhere. Flutters. Sparks. Something like that deep within her body welcoming him in. Over and over. _Yes._ The way he moved. All of him. Muscle. Taut. Flickering under hands dragging down his back. Pressing marks into his skin. Each one a request somehow. For more. However he could give it. _Oh god._ Slower. Harder. In some perfect way. Scattered heat collecting into a thick wave rolling low within her. Then out. Pouring. Shivers racking every inch of her body. Starting all over when he went statuesque against her. Stuttering to a stop in the midst of hers. And the world went black and electric in a single moment.

In what felt like ages, colour slowly began to bleed back in.

Bedsprings under and near her creaked faintly.

"Are you alright?"

Until she found a little energy to turn her head and look at him, she didn't realise his question had been a serious one.

"I'm fine."

More than fine. But words were slipping out of her grasp at the moment. Closing her eyes, she was dimly aware of his lips somewhere on her face, moving when he murmured still breathlessly,

"Tired?"

"No."

She was aware of her own lips having moved to answer and then little else as sleep quickly claimed her.


End file.
